The Death of Nathaniel
by The.Unaccounted.Tragedy
Summary: NatxKitty: As the end draws closer, John Mandrake reflects a bit on his life, and realizes that Nathaniel died a long time ago, but with death staring him in the face, is all really lost? Lengthy and long oneshot, R&R if ya don't mind -REVISED VERSION-


As the staff glowed in his hands, and Nouda closed in. Bartimaeus was gone and so was Kitty, now it was just him. The pain and his side and shoulder had reduced to a numb throb. Oddly enough, he wasn't afraid of dying, it just seemed too inevitable now to deny. Hmm, he never thought this was the way he was going to go out. Sure, not most people expect to be combating an ancient demon god, but it the midst of death, he felt new life.

It was the girls fault, Kitty, he had seen something in her that had awoken something deep inside him. _Nathanial._ A week ago he would of murdered her for using that name, a name of weakness, frail emotion, vulnerability, and his all but suppressed past. That Nathaniel had died a long time ago along with all his ideals, replaced by this new façade of a name: John Mandrake. And what had that done for him? Those he loved were dead, replaced by stuffy government officials who could care less for him that he had for them. It didn't matter now anyways, he was leaving them all behind.

But still, at one time he had honestly believed that he could make the world a better place using magic, instead of clawing his way up a social ladder who's only end seemed either in the grave or in madness. What had happened to him? He couldn't help but wonder.

As the light from the staff filled his vision, distorting everything in his already blurred vision, his thoughts wandered back to the earliest memories. Suddenly time seemed to stop as he began to remember.

-*-

He must have been 3? 2? Dark figures, towering over him talked in deep voices. He had been clinging to a coat hem, wet and slick with rain, as he had toddled through the unfamiliar building. He gazed around the large, open room he was standing in, with its tiled floor and dingy grey walls covered with a few ugly paintings of landscapes.

"We're here then," A mans voice spoke in a heavy north English accent. "You say the boy's very talented then?"

"Oh yes," A voice purred, accompanied by the clicking of heals on the hard ground. "He tested the highest in intelligence this year, and shows a high proficency with magic, and is the perfect age. We are so lucky you brought him to us to early," A woman with blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun crouched to his level. "And this must be him! Hello there!" She said in an overly syrupy voice.

"His mum calls him Nathaniel." The gruff male voice said, tugging his coat from the small boys grasp.

"Nathaniel?" She repeated, standing and smoothing her skirt. "Of course for we must record the name in the papers, and will only be used for the first year or so, until he can acclimate. With any luck he'll forget it in a couple years, then soon you'll get a new name! Won't that be fun? Hm?" She said, ruffling his scruffy brown hair with a manicured hand. Nathaniel didn't know what was going on, he grabbed a small hand onto the raincoat again.

"Stop that." The man's voice snapped, pulling the coat away. "And the compensation?" He asked the woman.

"Naturally," She said, reaching for some papers on a nearby counter. "You should receive a check in the mail in about two weeks, then from then a small percentage for the next three years," She said, checking the papers. "By that time, we should have the boy with a master and you wouldn't even recognize him if you saw him on the street," She laughed as though she had said something funny.

"Good." The man replied.

"Now, did you bring any clothes or toys perhaps for the boy?" She asked. "Items of any sort?"

"Just what he's wearing now."

"Excellent." She said, bending down and taking Nathaniel's hand. "Come on Nathaniel," She said, as though coaxing a dog. "Not a big talker are we now hm? Just come with Julie here now, there's a good boy," She said, leading him away. "Wave bye bye, now." She said sweetly.

"Daddy?" He said, reaching out for the man in the distance, not understanding.

"No no Nathaniel, come on," The woman said. "Come on, chin up then! You're going to be a magician."

-*-

Now we was in a familiar house, he would recognize those dusty shutters and faded rugs anywhere. He was six years old, on the first day he had lived in the Underwood residence. This day was a memorable one for him, but nevertheless he was curious.

"Come on now Nathaniel," Mrs Underwood said, her hands on her knees. "Don't cry," She said, to the small boy, sitting up on a kitchen counter.

"I wasn't going to cry," The boy pouted, trying his very best to hold in his tears. On his hand was a bloody dishrag, wrapped tightly around his limp fingers. "I'm so sorry Mrs Underwood," He said, his voice sad and low. "I didn't mean to get your potatoes all dirty...or your dishrag..."

"Oh, a little bit of blood never killed anyone," She said. "It'll wash right off, perhaps I shouldn't of let you go off with that knife, it was much too big anyways..."

"No!" Nathaniel cried. "I could do it, it just slipped...I really could, just an accident..." Hanging his head in shame the boy looked glumly at his hand.

"I believe you Nathaniel," She said kindly, slipping off the dishrag from his hand and placing a gentle bandage over his cut. "From what I hear you are a very talented boy," She smiled. "Next time you can show those potatoes who's boss," She said, laughing, and Nathaniel couldn't help but get caught up in it as well.

"What's all this racket?" Arthur Underwood demanded, walking smartly into the kitchen. "And where's dinner?"

"Almost ready dear, Nathaniel had a bit of an accident," She said, marching over to the stove, to finish up. Nathaniel hopped down from the counter.

"Accident?" Arthur drawled, noticing the boys hand. "Stupid boy," He muttered. "Come with me!" He said, marching out of the room, Nathaniel hesitated. "Now, boy! Come!" He repeated, as they made their way down to Underwoods study.

"Now," He said, settling himself in behind his desk in an overstuffed and creaking leather chair. "From your files they say you are very smart, but so far you know nothing of magic, that's where I come in" _Well obviously..._Nathaniel thought, and it wasn't entirely true about the magic thing either, but he decided not to say anything. "But!" Underwood said. "Can you be taught, that is my question..." He said. A paused. "Well, can you?!" He demanded.

"Oh yes sir, yes." He said quickly. What an annoying man...

"Slow," Underwood rolled his eyes. "Awful quiet, aren't you boy?" _Duh, and only because I can't get a word in edgewise._ "Well, I shall have to work with you, irregardless."_ Thats not a word..._ "Very well," He said, suddenly standing up. "Come now, if I am to be burdened with you the next what? Ten years? Might as well get used to it." He sighed, long and despondant. "Read this by the end of the week if you can." He sneered, flinging a large book from his desk onto the boy with a THUD. _Art of the Pentacle? Really?_

"Uhm, sir..."

"Speak up boy! Or say nothing!"

"I've already read-"

"Arthur, Nathaniel!" A voice called from the door. "Dinner! Come on now, before it gets cold!" Martha Underwood called from the door.

"Coming, woman!" Arthur answered. "And don't call the boy that, sooner he forgets it the better!" He said, walking out the door, Nathaniel trailing close behind him, grumbling, the seed of loathing and resent all but planted.

"I hope he wasn't too rough with you," Martha Underwood smiled as they walked down the long hall to the kitchen. "He gets a bit frustrated sometimes, try to understand him."

"Of course Mrs Underwood," He said, comforted by her words.

"You really are a good lad," She said. "I do sincerely hope you can be happy here, _Nathaniel." _She said, winking at him. "Come on then, I do hope you like stew..."

It was hard to imagine that in just seemingly 6 short years, this would all be gone: the house he came to call home, the books and studies he held so close, and the woman who probably loved him more than anyone else every would.

-*-

Now he was 12, being led around a much bigger, more expensive looking house behind a frail and white haired woman, who just seemed to reek of power and magic. For some reason, for someone who had just saved the government from extinction, he didn't feel so rosy...

"This is study, you may _not _be in here unescorted, and across from that is the library which you are free to use in your free time..." She said, walking quickly across a fancy hall rug. "Do try to keep up John." John? Who-Oh right that was him. "Down the hall is the kitchen, I have three housekeepers on any given day, so try to keep out of their way, breakfast is promptly at 6, lunch at 12, and dinner at 6 again, do not be late or you will eat nothing..." She droned on.

"Yes Miss Whitwell," He would mumble at moments. Jessica Whitwell, his new master seemed nothing less that strict, cold, and generally loathing to him.

"I don't know what that simpleton Underwood has been teaching, or not teaching you," She said. "But I see potential, and as such I will tolerate nothing less that the uptmost attention and standards from you." She sighed, tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear. "You are my responsibility for the next three years, see to it you do not embarrass me."

"Yes Miss Whitwell." He said again, miserable. He hated this place. He downright hated it. What a feeling, to know nobody in the world really cared about you. He was alone. Nobody even new his real name anymore, except that djinni who would use it first chance to murder him. Demons were terror, terror that only wanted death: his death, the death of people around him. All officials from the government seemed to regard him as threat to their careers, something to be destroyed, repressed. Even people he didn't know hated him: commoners spurned him, and that girl...

Maybe it was expected, for childhood fancies, about the rosy, loving world are always meant to shrivel away. But it was that day that from all the hatred something sprang from his heart. When there is nothing to love you, why even bother anymore? A useless emotion to be replaced with tangible, accepted things: power, ambitions, goals. It was that day Nathaniel Underwood died. No one even mourned.

-*-

A new memory popped into view. Well, it wasn't a memory, persay. More like a bunch of them jammed together. It was of Kitty. The day they met, filled with bruises and blood and the theft of his precious scrying glass, her fault. Kidnapping and attempted murder, his fault. Fighting the golem, both of their faults, mostly his though. And meeting once again...basically 6 years of knowing each other, but just glimpse and passes. Fights and strife. It hadn't been until the last five? Four? Hours he felt like he knew her. But why was he thinking of her now? His entire life had flashed before his eyes, and now her? Why?

Suddenly a different scene flashed, one he didn't recognize. It was a sunny day, in front of a plain little house. It was certainly in a bit of dirty part of London, wait, was this London? He didn't know. Suddenly a little kid came bursting out of the house.

"Mommy! Mommy! Come onnn!" It was a little, dark haired boy, dashing down the walk and onto the little lawn, sporting a few trees and plants. "Hurry up, we're going to be late for the movie! Come on!" He cried, slipping on his little jacket as he ran, alsmot quivering with excitement. He couldn't have been more than 7 years old.

"I'm coming, calm down." A womans voice came from the door. Nathaniel couldn't believe it. The mottled hair, that curled in just _that_ way, the harmonic voice, the fair skin like little diamonds, the shining dark eyes: it was her. It was Kitty. And she was a Mommy?! "Come here you," She said as the little boy ran up to her for a hug. "Relax, we'll be there on time, _if your father would hurry up!" _She called into the house. Father? Nathaniel froze. Father? Kitty was married? No, this couldn't be. Why was he seeing this? This wasn't his life!

"I'm coming, don't be so impatient." He heard a grumble from the door. He turned and his jaw dropped open. In the door stood a tall man, brown hair, dark eyes...it was _him. _

_"_Bout time." Kitty glared. "Tell your boy the movie isn't going anywhere, we have time." The older Nathaniel rolled his eyes.

"Son," He said, kneeling down to the boys level. "This movie is starting in less than 5 minutes, and once they close those doors, that movie will be gone forever!" He said. "You'll never get to see it. Ever again." He said in dead seriousness. The boy gaped in horror. "So you run ahead and make sure they don't close the doors on us, understand?"

"Yes sir!" The boy cried, darting off.

"Honey," Kitty said, dangerously sweet. "The movie doesn't start for 20 minutes."

"Yes, I know," He said. "But the theaters only a block or two away so I thought he could manage, and besides." He said, drawing her into an embrace. "Its been ages since some alone time," He said, kissing her neck.

"He has been around a lot, but there's just no time for..ooooooh yeah, thats the spot..." She said, going all but limp in his arms. "No, no, NO. You stop right now mister." She said. "Not in public, later though." She whispered.

"Fair enough." He said, letting her go, just pouting a little. "But what do you think of summer camp?"

"Oh yes, most definately." She agreed. "Come on," She said, kissing him again. "In case your son has a heart attack before he can see, what was it you agreed to? _Ninja Dogs 2, The Final Barkdown?_ I don't know whether to applaud you as a father or murder you..." She laughed and they headed off.

Nathaniel couldn't believe his eyes. He was married, happily no less, to Kitty?! Surely, for any 18 year old, seeing your own marriage and family would be weird, but especially because he was suppose to dead. He was dying, or perhaps had already died? Here, against the demon Nouda. Or did he?

-*-

He suddenly saw back to where he really was. Blinding yellow light, dark demon god bearing down on him. This was his end, he accepted it and he knew it. Things seemed to happen in slow motion, each action exaggerated, each sound blending into the other. It was his time to go, but suddenly he though of that small boy, of Kitty...she was so beautiful older, so fiery, and his? A doubt stabbed his mind, and rapidly began to think. He saw claws, light gathering around him, and without another thought, began to speak a spell of protection, and began to pray for luck, maybe it would work. Maybe. But it had to: after all, how could he die now, when he had someone so special to live for?

_I'm coming Kitty, Nathaniel's still alive, I'm still here, and its all your fault. _


End file.
